


Allergic

by cappachii



Category: Voltron - Fandom, Voltron Legendary Defender, Voltron legendary defenders, klance - Fandom, shallura - Fandom
Genre: College AU, Ice Cream Shop AU, Keith Kogane is not okay, Voltron, flower shop au, klance, my Spanish is probably horrifically off, shallura - Freeform, this is the fluffiest thing I'm pretty sure I have ever created, voltron legendary defender - Freeform, voltron legendary defenders - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-31 22:44:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10908978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cappachii/pseuds/cappachii
Summary: ...oh gosh, okay, here goes.So I work at an ice cream parlor, and it can be abitchto deal with sometimes, especially when there's a rush and you're fatigued AF. I love florist AUs to death, but there are already so many phenomenal ones out there for Klance {"Of Florists and Tennis Shoes" byvenpastis my personal favorite} so I wanted to switch some things up and throw in my personal experience with customer service. I love the "Keith is lactose intolerant" headcanon and I'm also kinda deathly allergic to plants (I wanted to be a florist so bad when I was little but I would probably die lmao) so I decided to let our boys bond over it. Hence the title.-------------------As for the Spanish, I took a few classes a few years ago but haven't brushed up on it inages, so I'm sure there are some issues. Please, feel free to tell me what needs to be changed - I was nervous about putting it in, but it's such a big part of Lance's background that I would die internally if I left it out.Here are the rough translations:Spanish: "¿Qué estás haciendo, Diego? Te dejo por un minuto y vuelvo a este infierno…Dios mío, ¿estás en el teléfono con alguien? ¡Ponlo abajo, maldita sea!"English (roughly): "What are you doing, Diego? I leave you for one minute and come back to this hellhole...My God, are you on the phone with someone? Put it down, damn it!"dejalo = drop it





	Allergic

He had just managed to catch a breath before the phone rang. The counter was covered in a mixture of melted ice cream, sprinkles, and messy fingerprints, and the glass over the cases was nearly opaque. He brushed back the bangs that had fallen from the little ponytail he was wearing his hair in, not even bothering to worry about the bits of ice cream he was sure he was spreading on them. His arms were streaked with chocolate and caramel and he had somehow gotten marshmallow on his elbow; when he peeled his gloves off, the filmy material inside stuck to his hands like wet paper towel. He groaned and very nearly flopped down on the sugar-salted floor.

The first few rings went by completely unnoticed, him only hearing the sound when he shut off the water after scrubbing at his hands, and he threw the gloves in the nearest trash bin with vigor before stomping his way over to the phone. He snatched it up, took a deep breath, and answered in his most approachable, least intolerant voice:

“Hi, welcome to Kerberos Creamery. How can I help you?”

The sound of something breaking was his reply, and he jolted a bit, fatigue temporarily forgotten. In the background, someone swore in what he could vaguely place as Spanish, and more clattering followed. There was a harsh breathing sound coming through the receiver as well - as if someone had their mouth on the phone and was performing some weird CPR-esque maneuver - and he almost didn’t want to ask, but it was late and he was _exhausted_ and he just wanted his shift to be over so he could toss his apron into oblivion and collapse into his bed like it was a coffin.

He bit back as much frustration as possible and repeated himself, reaching out to tap his fingers impatiently on the glass but recoiling at the ice cream smothered on its top. “Hello?”

There were a few more thumping sounds, and then the same voice - clearly male, and sounding just as exasperated as he felt - cut through the connection. 

“¿Qué estás haciendo, Diego? Te dejo por un minuto y vuelvo a este infierno…Dios mío, ¿estás en el _teléfono_ con alguien? ¡Ponlo _abajo_ , maldita sea!”

Crackling ensued, and then the same voice, closer now and a bit more composed, called out.

“My God, I’m so sorry, this little brat just - Diego, _¡dejalo!_ \- called you by accident, ah, I’m so sorry, I just left him for a sec and I came back and he had destroyed the place. I swear, when I-”

“-hey, it’s okay.” 

He had no idea why he was laughing - it could’ve been hysteria, genuine amusement, or a mix of both. But here he was, alone in an ice cream parlor _clearly_ made for more than one staff member, seven hours into his eight hour shift, on the phone with a number he still hadn’t clarified but laughing all the same. He cradled the phone between his shoulder and his temple and began to wipe down the countertops.

The stranger on the other end made an incomprehensible strangling sound.

“No, seriously, this is so embarrassing. I grew up with a billion siblings and all their energy combined wouldn’t be able to make a _dent_ in this kids’. He’s already managed to trample, like, six boxes of our newest shipment. I’m ready to kill him.”

“Sounds like a time,” he chuckled, reaching across the counter to scrub hot fudge off the milkshake blender. “Although, from what it looks like, I’m going to be cleaning up the effects of juvenile sugar rushes for hours.”

The voice laughed, genuine and smooth as silk. “Jesus, okay, now you have to explain.”

He groaned, letting the last of his polite façade fade, and sprayed the glass cleaner as aggressively as possible.

“I work at an ice cream shop, and today was the busiest day we’ve had in awhile. Although it’s not possible, I’d like to petition to ban milkshakes - they’re cruel and unusual punishment to those who make them and should not be permitted.”

The stranger made a noncommittal noise in his throat, but it sounded like he was smiling.

“Now _that_ sounds like a blast and a half.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Especially when you’re lactose intolerant.”

“ _Whoa, whoa, whoa._ ” Snickering exploded on the other end of the phone. “You’re lactose intolerant and you work at an _ice cream shop_?”

“My brother worked here while he was in school - he’s at some fancy flight academy now, I guess - so he got me an easy in. It’s not a particularly bad job...it just, uh, takes a lot out of you. I’m not a big people person, but I needed the money.”

“Ugh, okay, I feel you. Altea’s a great place, but my allergies kinda put a damper on things.”

“Allergies?”

“Yeah. I work as a florist - that was a beautiful ceramic frog that lost it’s life right before I picked up the call, by the way, bless his soul - and I’m allergic to plants. Like, really, _really_ allergic. I have to get allergy shots just to work.”

“...you’re kidding me.”

“Nope! Oh, the things we sacrifice for cash. Sometimes I - oh, _shit_ , I think Diego just got into the potting soil. I just swept the floor…”

“Well, best of luck to you, then. I’ll have Child Protective Services track your location.”

“Gee, thanks,” the voice said, dry humor dripping like venom. The slight chuckle following it, however, canceled the effect. “Have fun cleaning up WWC Three.”

“WWC?”

“World Waffle Cone.”

“Oh my _God._ ”

And, with that and another crash, the line disconnected, and the ice cream shop was once again quiet. He reached up loosened the ponytail at the nape of his neck, releasing the raven-black hair so it could once again frame his face. Keith Kogane - his name tag was crooked and smudged with hot fudge, so it was hard to decipher - stifled his smile with the back of his hand and adjusted the tip jar right as a couple with two small children walked through the door.

His smile had never been so genuinely bright.

**Author's Note:**

> ...oh gosh, okay, here goes.
> 
> So I work at an ice cream parlor, and it can be a _bitch_ to deal with sometimes, especially when there's a rush and you're fatigued AF. I love florist AUs to death, but there are already so many phenomenal ones out there for Klance {"Of Florists and Tennis Shoes" by [venpast](http://www.archiveofourown.com/users/venpast) is my personal favorite} so I wanted to switch some things up and throw in my personal experience with customer service. I love the "Keith is lactose intolerant" headcanon and I'm also kinda deathly allergic to plants (I wanted to be a florist so bad when I was little but I would probably die lmao) so I decided to let our boys bond over it. Hence the title.
> 
> \-------------------
> 
> As for the Spanish, I took a few classes a few years ago but haven't brushed up on it in _ages_ , so I'm sure there are some issues. Please, feel free to tell me what needs to be changed - I was nervous about putting it in, but it's such a big part of Lance's background that I would die internally if I left it out. 
> 
> Here are the rough translations:
> 
> Spanish: "¿Qué estás haciendo, Diego? Te dejo por un minuto y vuelvo a este infierno…Dios mío, ¿estás en el teléfono con alguien? ¡Ponlo abajo, maldita sea!"
> 
> English (roughly): "What are you doing, Diego? I leave you for one minute and come back to this hellhole...My God, are you on the phone with someone? Put it down, damn it!"
> 
> dejalo = drop it


End file.
